The Pandoran War
by Dragonheart51
Summary: Parker Selfrige was no fool, the moment Quaritch went to destroy the Na'vi's home tree, he prepared to act in defense of his species. His actions would change history and bring the true meaning of war to the Na'vi. And both sides shall pay the price. For as Paris was to Troy, so to is Jake Sully to Pandora, and his foolishness shall bring only pain and sorrow to all on this world.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Avatar is the property of James Cameron, I do not own anything.**

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Prologue

Miles Quaritch was furious. Now this was a hard thing to do normally, but the thing that everyone knew about him was that he was even harder to calm down. Why he was angry now was quite simple. The Na'vi had murdered the crew of the dozers that had plowed under one of those trees the Na'vi loved so much. And while Quaritch was head of security, no one died on his watch. At least, none that he could prevent. But perhaps, he thought as he walked toward the Dragon gunship, this was unavoidable.

Relations with the natives had been getting progressively worse, and on top of all this that fool Sully, who Quaritch had personally requested was going native. Damn it all to hell, he and Selfridge had tried to play nice and have Sully warn the natives that their tree was going to fall. He even had three months to do it. And God only knew that they might've understood. They needed the minerals under the Na'vi's tree, it was the sole reason they were there in the first place. In any other circumstance, none of this would've happened. The natives had stayed out of their way, and they'd stayed out of theirs. They had come to that planet to mine for the superconductor that powered the starships that were ferrying colonists out to new inhabitable planets. And the miners just worked as far away as they could from the Na'vi's settlements.

But there was a bit of a snag. Because the RDA was expanding operations, they needed to find a second mining site to increase production of Unobtainium. And the biggest deposit closest to them was under the Na'vi's damn village. And despite the fact that they had avatars to act as ambassadors, the natives either didn't listen or were downright hostile. And many of Augustine's science geeks actually agreed with them. And now, things were going pear shaped because after three months, the dozers had arrived and Sully had nothing to show for it, apart from becoming the boyfriend of the chief's daughter.

If he wasn't so angry at that moment, he might have chuckled at how similar the situation he was in was to some of the old movies. He would also have noticed Selfridge slipping into his office. But calm or not, he could he have known the significance of what Selfridge was about to do. For Selfridge was about to write a letter. Now that itself was nothing of note. But to who and what he was writing about, that was the sticky part. He sat down at his desk and opened his terminal. The message he sent was short, to the point and betrayed the undercurrent of desperation in him.

He clicked the send button and collapsed back in his chair knowing the irrevocable nature of what he had just done. But he could not know that as the message went speeding towards Earth, forces far beyond his control, or Quaritch's, were preparing to decide the fate of Pandora.

Two days later.

Secretary of Defense Thomas McNamara walked down one of the many halls of the UEG's capital building where the White House once stood. He was on his way to a meeting regarding the mining of Pandorium, the name was changed because it was now being synthesized, and to show where it was being mined. McNamara was a tall man of about forty-six, he wore a dark suit and tie with an overcoat to protect him from the cold Virginia afternoon. He arrived at the President's office just as the clocks were striking one. The office of the President was about the same size as some board rooms. Sparsely decorated, save for the curtains that covered the immense south window, and the painting of the George Washington.

When he entered, he noticed the room was quiet. Not that there was no one there, there most certainly were. But the people that were there had a tense feeling about them, there was an electricity in the air, and the type of quiet that happens right before a cyclone gets down to it and gives the populace the works. Every single person was huddled together and whispering as if the walls had ears. When Thomas closed the door, many gave starts of surprise, for it was clear they hadn't noticed him. The President stood and walked over to greet him. The President by contrast, was a short man of about 5,6 with a patrician face.

"Thomas," he said, "glad you could make it." The president waved him over to one of the sofas. The President spoke again, "Alright everyone, for those of us recently arrived, the situation shall be described now. Martin, if you please." He gestured for his chief of staff, who proceeded to press a button on a remote, followed by a screen lighting up with a text, over which was the logo of the Resources Development Administration. "At 0400 hours this morning, the office of the POE received this message from the Pandoran mining base, code-named 'Hell's Gate'". The contents of which were read aloud. The message ran as follows:

 _To: Office of the President of the UEG, Earth._

 _From: Administrator Parker Selfridge, RDA mining expedition, Pandora._

 _All diplomatic measures failed. Situation out of hand. Consider conflict with natives, inevitable. Request government forces be sent at earliest possible opportunity._

General Jameson turned to the assembled group, his face grim, "We have received no further reports from the colony, confidential or otherwise." He then walked to the side of the President. The President began to speak again, "This news could not have come at a worse time. Just as people are starting to feel things can be resolved, the news is going to be broken that we've got another war on our hands. And just as the world could begin to breath easy. In addition to this bombshell, the antimatter reactors have just begun to produce clean energy. So gentlemen, how do you think the public is going to react when this hits the net?" The president gestured to the message on the screen. "This is not a time for half measures people. We need to know how and what to do in this political minefield, so we keep our jobs and our species alive. The last thing we need is for the public to find out that our first extrasolar colony is now a war zone."

Secretary of Homeland Security, Johannes Koestler remarked, "There will probably be mass riots all over Earth," his deep German voice echoing off the walls, "and a huge loss of morale in our armed forces." But as thoughts of all in the room began to turn to visions of anarchy, one man, the Secretary of Colonial Affairs, Joseph Kornilov saw his chance.

"What about the ISV's? How many do we have?" The others looked at him in confusion, but the Secretary of the Navy replied, "Ten active and twenty more being constructed on Mars. Why do you ask?"

"I'm curious. What if we complied with Selfridge's request?" The officials quickly began to understand what Kornilov was getting at.

"You actually wish to send government forces to Pandora and use the ISVs to do it? You do realize that from the reports the old UN received showed that not only are there a lot of angry natives but the planet itself wants us dead?" Asked the Secretary for the Army, Park Dong Ha.

"Which is why we are going to simply send a Marine regiment, using the new Antimatter drives installed on the new ISVs." Most in the room now understood his plan, but were still skeptical. "And where will the ships come from? We have ten ships now, but most of them are still in the cycle. And all of them hold only two hundred men." said the Secretary for the Navy.

But Kornilov only grinned. "That is where you'd be wrong. You see, those twenty new ISVs are all near completion, outfitted and all. In fact, we began construction on these ships six years ago, when the DoD heard about the increased attacks which began even then. We were certain something like this would happen, so we began planning for any situation that would require large amounts of force be brought to bear. But these were not only for the military, these new ships have modular components that can be used for either military or civilian purposes."

The Secretary for the Navy was incensed, why had he not been informed of this? Space was his fiefdom! But even so, Kornilov's point stood. The new ships would be able to carry five times the number of persons aboard, almost two thousand tons of cargo and could make the trip to Pandora in one month as opposed to five years. This put Earth in the exact position she wanted to be in. Now, large amounts of force could be brought to bear in an impossibly short amount of time, and as everyone looked at each other, they agreed they would need that force very soon.

Sooner than anyone thought.

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 **This is my first chapter of The Pandoran War. In this story, I am trying to make the** **parallels that James Cameron tried to make with Vietnam and other such wars. Whatever else I show and write herein, is up to you.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Avatar is property of James Cameron. I do not own anything other than my original characters**

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 **Chapter 1**

The capitol building stood in the center of the capital city of Earth and it's colonies, a combination of the former city of the district of columbia and Arlington county. The building was, of course, one of the largest. It was also one of the newest buildings in the city. For it was only four years ago that the Earth had unified. It was fashioned from marble and gold and was designed in the style of beaux-arts. The capitol was constructed in a vast public square, and was often used for ceremonies and parades. It also had a large main foyer for press conferences and other such functions. And it was for one such PC, that President Raymond D. Howard now stood at a podium for. Cameras flashed all around the darkened room and reporters clamored for the President's attention.

"Mr. President why has this conference been called?" one of the reporters from the New York Times, Benjamin Reed, a wiry man wearing a trench coat and cheap suit asked. He was the quintessential image of the tabloid hack, with his tablet and stylus writing down every word the president said and planning to spin it in the most outrageous way possible.

The president had responded with words weighted with a grave portent. "I have called this conference because I wish to inform the world and humanity of the danger facing us."

"What danger sir? The Pandorium has been flowing for the past ten years, the economy has come out of the depression, people are even eating right for Christ' sake! What could go wrong now?" Reed queried the president once more. Once more, the president's tone was grim as the tomb as he answered, "The very worst thing possible. Yesterday, at four in the morning, we received a message from the Pandoran mining colony, known as Hell's Gate that produces the very mineral that has made our world habitable again. It was stated that all measures for some sort of peaceful resolution of the crisis between the miners and natives has failed, and the situation is now irreparable. It was further requested, that the government send troops to protect the RDA's, and by extension, the government's interests. With careful consideration, my advisors, cabinet and myself have decided to ascend to the request delivered by the colony."

As expected, the room exploded into flashing camera lights, questions and thinly veiled accusations. A reporter from Xinhua asked heatedly, "Mr. President, is this a declaration of war on the Na'vi?" The president smiled and said calmingly, "We are not as yet at war. We are simply shoring up our defenses and protecting the one thing that can save our planet and our species." The conference went on for several more hours during which the President answered various questions regarding how many troops would be sent and other such questions, but the deed was done.

Earth was now irrevocably committed to sending ground troops in the first interstellar conflict known to man. Two days later, the 9th marine regiment and the 7th engineer support battalion stood assembled and ready at the embarkation port at Mars Naval Base. Ready to sally forth as their fathers and grandfathers had against wicked foes, and ready to burn worlds. As the great boots of the marines clanked up the loading ramps to the ships, the march "Das Engellandlied" blared from the speakers. Many would admit, it was quite fitting. An hour later, when the bays were devoid of life, the five ships, the _Kentucky Star_ , the _Pride of Beijing_ , the _Kiel_ , the _Kilimanjaro_ and the _Luna's Hope_ slipped out of their berths and began the journey to a distant world.

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 **Above Pandora.**

 **Three weeks later.**

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Admiral Joseph De Gaulle stood on the bridge of his flagship, the _Kentucky Star_ , looking out at the green moon of Polyphemus. _"So, this is the place that our only salvation can be found. This little moon of Centauri."_ he thought. Watching the turn of the planet and ruminating on the situation, the order was given to muster. Within moments, the many women and men of the 9th marines were standing in the decks of the ships, their eyes foggy and their stomachs growling. After some fumbling and trip ups, the troopers eventually filed out into the mess hall. Soon, Admiral De Gaulle was at his seat on the high table and began to speak.

"Soldiers of the United Earth Government, officers, noncommissioned officers, and enlisted men. You were all briefed before we left Earth, so you know that we have come here to conquer this world in the name of Humanity. Should any of you have second thoughts about performing your assigned duties, be reminded that if we fail in our mission here, not one of us will be going home. We stand or fall together in this forsaken wasteland! This planet shall either be our home, or our grave."

"Serve your Government, serve humanity! All other priorities are secondary to victory." Cheers erupted from many throats and the roar of the crowd was so great as to make anyone deaf if exposed to it for too long, but De Gaulle relished it, for he knew now that the men would neither falter, nor fear. Now all that was necessary was to land the men. And that could easily be accomplished, each ISV carried four Valkyrie shuttles, each capable of holding two hundred and fifty fully armored marines, along with sixteen F-1000 Super Sabre 2 sub orbital fighters as escort. And all of these mighty vehicles now detached from their connecting umbilicals and began the hair raising journey to the surface.

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 **Hell's Gate**

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The entire base was in a state of quiet panic, it had been three weeks since Sully escaped with three accomplices, it was known that one was wounded, but no one could tell how badly, and the blue skins were over twenty thousand strong now. Quaritch had wanted to go after them, but Selfridge overruled him. They would not risk their men in a foolhardy attack on a natural fortress. Tensions were high, and it seemed like only a few days and they would over run the whole complex. But in the Ops Center, the nervous orderlies watching the radars began to notice a massive amount of activity on the north side. But not on the ground. The air search radar detected a formation of large contacts racing down from atmospheric level at break neck speeds thirty miles out.

Moments later, the Air Traffic Control radioman picked up a signal from the lead contact. "Hell's Gate Tower, this is Ghost Leader, 113th Marine Transport Squadron. Coming around for a 709er. This is gonna be a tight one. The whole squadron's here."

"Roger say again?" Came the uncertain and static filled reply from the tower. Loosing patience, the pilot of the Valkyrie shouted, "I have sixteen Valkyries full of troops and equipment, we are coming in hot and we can't stay up here forever, now get that strip clear Tower! Get that god damned strip clear!"

"Instantly the base burst to life, people running every which way, to helicopters, to shelter, it didn't matter, just to make sure the place didn't turn into that world's largest bomb. Soon the roar of turbofan engines from the shuttles filled the air and the aggressive tempo of the Air Force march blared from loudspeakers installed on either side of the shuttle cockpits. And that was before they were even visible. But slowly, the sound grew. And then there they were, ten gigantic aircraft with small glimmers of light darting around them which as they drew close were revealed to be F-1000 Super Sabre 2's. And on the side of the fighters and transports were the letters, UEMC. The United Earth Marine Corps.

The noise, both from jets and the speakers was almost intolerable but the choppers cleared off the airfield just in time to act as a sort of unofficial extra security. Those on the ground were privy to an awe inspiring sight and sound. Sixteen Valkyrie shuttles with engines at full burn, fighters racing above in the indeterminable blue along with over a hundred helicopters turned outwards watching for any interlopers. It must've put the fear of god in any Na'vi that saw the sight. Watching from the Ops Center, Miles Quaritch thought to himself, _"Oh, well I guess this is what Selfridge meant when he said we'd have some new guests."_ Not wanting to appear completely caught off guard, he stood to attention and saluted.

As the first Valkyrie touched down, the ramp lowered. From out of the giant cargo bay marched one hundred soldiers, all clad in armor so large as to make them seem as demigods. Most were at least eight feet tall. These eighty were lapis blue and gold. Each carried a rifle almost five feet long. The last twenty were armed with a variety of weapons, the least of which were machine guns as long as men were tall. Five were more bulky and had two nozzles attached to their gauntlets with two massive canisters on their backs, and on the left hand side of their chest plates was written in block lettering, the word "Drache". As they walked to their assembly area in front of the base, one of them walked by a sec-ops soldier and said in a deep and hazy basso voice, "Need a light?" and the nozzles began to drip with burning napalm causing the mercenary to stumble backwards to avoid the fiery liquid.

Quaritch looked at the men and women disembarking. Already the second load of soldiers were offloading from the next shuttle. And seeing the giants that strode forth into the base, he felt a pride in him that he had only felt once before. The day that his first command fought with him in Nigeria. But he was distracted from his reminiscing by the sight of one of the marines marching towards the entrance to the Ops Center. Two minutes later, the armored soldier entered the building, the eagle on his pauldrons indicating his rank of Colonel. The floor actually shook as he walked up to him. The amber visor on his helmet opened to show the battle scared face of a man of forty five years, smoking a cigar.

"Colonel Miles Bradshaw Quaritch?" he asked. Quaritch answered in the affirmative. "Col. Bob Clewell, 9th Marine Regiment, 3rd Marine Infantry Brigade, 1st Marine Division. By authority of the President of the United Earth Government, I am hereby ordered to provide security and additional military power for this colony, and I bring with me the staff for a new Military Defense Command. The regiment is fully equipped, and can set up base camp in the next forty eight hours. We have enough men to protect this installation until the crisis abates and we are deployed elsewhere, or until the President deploys more forces to Pandora. In terms of seniority, I have been ordered to defer to you, Col. Quaritch. You have operational control of the forces you have as well as the 9th Marines, effective immediately. So I ask you now frankly sir, are we in business?" Quaritch looked at Clewell and smiled.

"Gentlemen, I do believe we are in business." The two shook hands and together saluted the disembarking marines. While off to the side, Max Patel, fingers shaking in fright, sent a message to Jake and the Na'vi forces detailing the recent arrivals, and that a change of strategy was in order. For the ground war was about to begin.

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 **Here's the second chapter for you guys! Follow and favorite, and leave some reviews. Remember, I like constructive criticism so don't hold back.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Avatar is the property of James Cameron. I do not own anything other than my** **original characters.**

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 **Chapter 2**

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Work went fast in the next two weeks. Selfridge had never seen engineers of any military variety in action, but he was quickly impressed when he saw them in action. After huddling together with Quaritch and his other senior commanders, a spot was staked out for the 9th's new base. On a slight elevation in the ground, twenty miles out, a 10 hectare clearing had been carved out of the jungle by the slash-cutters of the 7th engineers in little less than six hours. This would be where the Marine's new base would be located.

The one issue that had not been addressed was that of command. The regiment had brought a staff for a major command with them, however there was no ranking officer who could take the assignment. Thusly, Quaritch was still in temporary military command while Selfridge ran the operation as a whole.

Drawing (not unfair) parallels from the Vietnam Wars, due to the terrain and surroundings, the Marine base, New Da Nang, was built quickly and efficiently. The plan for defense was simple; two battalions manning the line, with the other two and the 7th engineers in reserve. Equipped with UH-101 Super Huey's and AT-100 Hornet gunships, the 9th Marines were a rapid reaction force, made to move quickly to, and engage any enemy forces that approached. So far, all was quiet.

The morning came with the same deceptive peacefulness that is endemic on a death world, but almost everyone could feel a certain tension in the air. Despite the fact that two weeks had gone by, there were only light attacks. Then, at eleven fifteen a.m, the comms burst into frantic chatter.

"Da Nang! This is mining site 01! We are under attack by blueskins! I say again, blueskins! Need help immediately, mining site 01 is under attack!" The colonel was in before the man on the other end finished his sentence.

"This is Clewell. We read you site 01, 3rd battalion will be with you in half an hour and the rest of the regiment will close on foot to eliminate any attackers mounted on Dire Horses or other such ground based enemies. Hold out until we get there, over." The Colonel spun around and began barking orders and flagging down his 3rd battalion commander, Major Jack Larson. Larson was a middle sized man with dark skin and chocolate brown eyes, though he personally did not approve of that description. "Major!" He shouted, immediately the Chicago native seemed to materialize in front of him and snapped to attention.

"Yes sir!" he replied, in a tone that just begged to be given an order.

"Major, you have command of the air-mobile forces of the regiment, so I'm tasking you with relieving the site and defeating the blueskin attack!" came Clewell's response. Maj. Larson saluted once more and rushed off to assemble his battalion. The assembly itself took less than 10 minutes, marines sealing themselves into their armor, grabbing their weapons and running to the activating helicopters. Soon the major was in his chopper and he felt the familiar sensation of his stomach dropping as the helicopters began to raise themselves off the ground.

At lift off plus 12, the columns of smoke rising from the mine could be seen. Two minutes later, the yells and cries of the natives could be heard. At lift off plus thirty five, the choppers descended to treetop level. After what seemed like an eternity, the choppers arrived at their destination, the weapons company landed 200 meters outside the mining zone while the others dived down into the mine itself. The Marauders of the weapons company quickly set up and began lobbing mortar shells into the pit, though they took great care to avoid damaging the excavators closest to the combat sector. And then in ten minutes, it was all over. The first major engagement of the war. There had been several over the previous two months, but none on this scale.

No news travels faster than bad news, and it flew along the grapevine back to Hell's Gate that the first mining site had been attacked. A force of 200 Na'vi had made the assault, but fewer than 20 made it out, and they had been riding Banshees. But this attack, however large, was a probing assault. Two attacks in the next week, on a smaller scale, confirmed this. When the second attack hit, the regiment took their first casualties, two dead and five wounded in the 2nd battalion. Something big was coming, and whatever it was, one regiment, even of marines, would not be enough to defeat the native attack.

These were the thoughts running through the mind of Bob Clewell as he sat at his desk at the command post. Clewell thought it over and then he marched to the staff car landed in the second day of their service. After a tense fifteen minutes of watching the jungle around him, watching for ambushes, his car arrived at Hell's Gate.

As the vibrations ceased from exposure to the cold tarmac of the base, Clewell felt some sense of relief as the gate closed behind his vehicle, but that did not detract from the greater weight on his mind regarding the coming storm. Shoving those thoughts to one side, he entered the now rapidly expanding Ops Center of Hell's Gate. Taking a glance around, he saw the new banks of computers and radar monitors being integrated with the main command center. At the center was Quaritch and Selfridge and half a dozen other orderlies pouring over virtual maps and pointing out various necessities and dangers.

"Colonel." he greeted Quaritch cordially. "Administrator." and he shook Parker's hand. "Gentlemen, I've come here today due to the mounting pressure on our forces in this region. Despite our best efforts, native attacks have continued, in increasing frequency."

"I heard about the attack on the mining site. Your boys did a good job out there." Quaritch said with a smirk. _"I expected nothing less."_ he thought proudly to himself.

"It's not just the mining site. Sec-ops has been running ragged trying to keep up with the viper wolves and every damn thing coming up to the fences these past two days. There was even a Thanator that nearly ripped through the wire before the guards shot the thing down." Selfridge interjected. He was looking nervous and kept lightly touching things like the map or his coffee cup with the tips of his fingers.

"We need more men. And we need them fast. The forces I have at present are not enough to stop the enemy forces. Though there are only 20,000 at present, they are probably going to send out the word to other clans and tribes around Pandora. If that is the case, then we are going to have an even tougher time. I suggest that we petition High Command to send the rest of the 3rd Brigade, an air task-force, another engineering and logistics force, and a general officer to fill the position of Commander United Earth-MDCP."

"Out of the question." Selfridge declared, almost instantaneously. "There's already a regiment of marines here, that's won entire wars back on earth! We won't need any more than that to handle a bunch of blue savages!" There was no arrogance in his tone, instead there was fear. Clewell could see the problem immediately. The RDA was a semi-governmental organization. If Selfridge called for reinforcements, then he might be reflecting poorly upon both the company, and on the UEG itself.

Clewell was about to retort to Selfridge's irrational fear of a loss of face, but Quaritch cut him off by saying, "I'm frankly of the opinion that we'll be needing a lot more than a brigade, no matter that those bastards out there only have bows and arrows. There has to be at least 50,000 by now, all over the country side. The only reason there isn't more is because they can't feed that number with their current food supply! Even 4,000 Marines in power armor can't stand up to that. We're outnumbered 12-to-1. I say we get the 3rd brigade and then some. Tell them to bring the whole Expeditionary Corps if they can!"

This verbal sparing continued on for some time, but in the end Selfridge saw that he was beaten, and they agreed to a compromise. They would request the rest of the 3rd Marine Brigade and the commander for MDC-P, but that was it. The next day, Selfridge sent the message and a day later, the reply came, advances in technology allowed longer messages, and the full text read as follows.

 _To: Military Defense Command, Hell's Gate, Pandora, Alpha Centauri_

 _From: UEG Armed Forces Headquarters, Columbia, Earth, Sol System_

 _"The 3rd Brigade for the 1st Marine Division is en route. Plans are also being developed to deploy the entirety of the 1st Marine Expeditionary Corps if necessary. Furthermore, a Tactical Fighter Wing and general officer are being deployed along with the Marines. They will arrive two days after the brigade makes landfall."_

This meant they would be forced to hold the line for another month. And Clewell continued to fret as small raids were made by small squad size blueskin forces. The nights he spent frittering away over casualties his regiment suffered were in number, almost as many as the days they waited for the remainder of the brigade. Sitting at his desk, licking his dried lips and downing his 10th cup of coffee of the day, he would look over the numbers of wounded and dead. By the time that three weeks had passed, some thirty men had been killed, while roughly twice that number had been killed.

Often, those wounded and killed were found near the base, struck by arrows from banshee riding Na'vi when they were out of armor, or as happened with increasing frequency, when they pierced the vulnerable back armor and stranded the wearer out in the jungle. An even greater form of anxiety was the creation of sufficient lodgings for the 3rd, and there were only three weeks until they arrived. He lamented that he had not requested anti-aircraft weaponry as well as the forces he had already, but the brigade's arrival would offset loses.

In order for the brigade to function, the base had to be expanded, and expanded quickly. Soon, concrete barracks and a hanger bay for the Marine's transports and gunships were taking shape, the parts to which had been fabricated by the Stereolithography Plant at Hell's Gate, and a new ops center was complete. An air strip, 20,000 feet long, and concrete helicopter pads were completed two days later. This base was different in that is was similar to the old air bases on earth, indeed, this was to be the main headquarters for all Marine Corps military matters on base was based around the dual airstrip with the ATT and the Ops Center right along side. The marine base was close by, two regiments, including the 9th, were on base. The other two were in the outer barracks. The base was enclosed by a security fence over fifty feet tall and had large guard towers with reinforced rail-guns every two hundred feet along with prefab pillboxes and trenches outside of the fence providing a forward defense.

Finally the 3rd Brigade arrived and the base was filled. The brigade also brought with them the new commander of the Military Defense Command, an Army general named Robert Richmond, who couldn't have been any more different from Quaritch and himself if he had attempted to do so. Richmond was skinny, he had dark hair which was quickly graying at the roots, he was in his early 60's and he was calm and introspective, rather than the bellicose aggression of Quaritch or the boisterousness of Clewell, though it had been rather subdued due to recent events.

After the men had settled in, Clewell had been debriefed by his commander, General Hatfield. The plan at home was, it developed, to launch air strikes against the main centers of Na'vi resistance. But the start of the campaign brought a new problem. The aircraft and their crews would be vulnerable to Na'vi strikes, thusly the Marines were to serve as the base guards. It was a rather bitter pill for Clewell to swallow, but he had his orders. What was more, the Marines were not allowed to move anywhere further than the mining sites to pursue any Na'vi that came within the bounds of the base.

 _"At least,"_ he consoled himself as he left the General's office, _"I've got those HAWK missiles now. That's the end of any banshee attacks they might launch on us."_ The missiles he was thinking of were Raytheon MIM 312 Hawk (Homing All the Way Killer) surface-to-air missiles. Virtual carbon copies of the missiles deployed in the 20th century, the increasingly dangerous state of affairs on Earth had necessitated their redevelopment, especially with the fact that various terrorist organizations had gained access to EMP equipment. Though the perks their renovated design offered were more than enough to compensate for the defects. And a 60 kilometer range was one of them.

The increase of soldiers had necessitated the building of a Stereolithography Plant at New Da Nang (courtesy of Hell's Gate) to supply the necessary material for weapons, and Clewell was quite happy that he didn't have to sweat over the transfer of equipment and the building of the factory on the base. Now it was General Hatfield's problem, he would be the one watching for Na'vi attacks. Now Clewell would simply be taking orders and following them to the letter. Though he was an independent character in the Corps, that was for when he was in combat. Now that his superior was in command, life, or so he thought, would be significantly simpler for him.

The brigade had brought with it two Dragon Assault Ships in the cargo bays of the new ISVs, as well as it's own equipment. These were given to the Hell's Gate defense force to serve as additional firepower, though with the number of airmen present, the Dragons would have to be put in storage for the time being. That was another thing. The Sec-ops forces were being consolidated into a single air-mobile regiment. That was something that he and Selfridge were not expecting. Nor did Selfridge particularly enjoy the fact that he had to oversee the expansion of Hell's Gate to facilitate the accommodation for the eventual arrival of the new troops.

Not that he disliked the man, but Clewell did feel some _schadenfreude_ at the turn of events. Now he would be the one who was fretting over how the expansion went. But his mind uncomfortably returned to Quaritch's estimation of enemy forces. If his estimations were true, then humanity was still out numbered two to one. And if Clewell remembered the population estimate, then there were more than one hundred and fifty million natives on this world. If Sully's crusade reached enough ears, then they would be facing an army several millions strong. Though it would be a guerrilla force the Earth Army would fight, and that would make things even more troublesome.

But these thoughts seemed rather unfounded when the 366th Tactical Fighter Wing landed at New Da Nang. Sonic booms rang out, one after the other as the aircraft descended, escorting the shuttles that carried the maintenance and support staff. Four hundred gleaming fighter-bombers with bombs and missiles already being produced at Hell's gate and New Da Nang, it seemed like a sledgehammer to drive a nail. And their commander, Brigadier General Walter Helmholtz was level headed and of a melancholic temperament. But there was the matter of the jungle too. There would need to be defoliants requested. _"But again,"_ Clewell thought happily as he saluted the airmen, _"That's something I won't need to request."_

* * *

The situation had been peaceable for another week when it happened. Clewell was on a morning inspection when a sound like a thunderclap shattered the early morning calm. Looking up, after recovering from the sheer mind numbing noise, he saw smoke rising in a great dark column towards the sky, from the direction of Hell's Gate. Knowing the worst had come to pass, he immediately jumped into his staff car and had the vehicle driving at top speeds to reach the base compound. When, after wrangling with the base guards for a minute or so, his car finally pulled through the gate, he saw the wreckage of nearly a dozen Samson and Scorpion helicopters.

"What happened?" he questioned Selfridge and Quaritch, all business.

"It looks like the blueskins planted a bomb of some kind in the helicopter pads. We managed to catch the bastards as they were taking off and we actually caught two of 'em while they were trying to escape. Most of their group is dead but one or two got away in addition to the two that we captured." Selfridge said, while suppressing a tremble. The fact that some of the natives had managed to infiltrate the base was even more disturbing than the fact that some of their number had escaped.

In the aftermath of the attack, General Richmond, Brigadiers Hatfield and Helmholtz, along with Administrator Selfridge, his mining foreman William August, Colonel Quaritch and the commander of engineers on Pandora, Major Lang, met to discuss the matter of the military. Clewell was also granted a place at the table, for he had been the only commander other than Quaritch with any sort of experience fighting the Na'vi. When Robert Clewell was informed of this, he was flattered, but also annoyed, for he was being called away from New Da Nang, where he was needed.

When Clewell arrived at the ops center, everyone save for him was already seated. Scanning the room, he saw that it was good he had worn his dress uniform, for every person at the table was in their dress uniform, or in Selfridge's case, a suit. Quaritch in particular seemed rather out of place, wearing his dark green Army Service uniform with it's tightly buttoned collar and generally civilized appearance, he looked more natural in the battlefield camouflage he wore about the base and in the thick of fighting. This observation out of the way, he crossed the room to his chair, positioned at the furthest southern end, to the left of General Hatfield. In the center of the table sat Selfridge, flanked on either side by General Richmond and Foreman August.

Presently, Selfridge began speaking. "Gentlemen," he said, his voice unusually grave and his usual smug tone was nowhere to be heard. "we have been attacked deliberately by forces of the Na'vi organized by rogue Marine Jake Sully. I have called you all here to openly discuss, what measures we shall take in response to this." The conversation that followed was quiet and not at all like the normal staff meetings Clewell was used to. But perhaps, he reflected latter, that was because everyone already knew the other's position. The only challenge at that point was to ensure cooperation between the various agencies in the Military Defense Command.

General Helmholtz was the first to comment. "In my opinion sir," he respectively nodded to Selfridge, then cleared his throat. "Excuse me. It is my opinion that we must begin an air campaign against known Pandoran enclaves and base areas. And this would be a first step in to a larger operation, so long as Earth Command approves. However, we will need more units eventually to properly prosecute the war. In addition, I request that the 366th is given it's own base area, to properly stow it's aircraft. Other air assets are vulnerable to attack by IEDs and other such weapons in our current layout of our bases."

Brig. General Hatfield then leaned forward and queried, "What about the Marines? Are we just going to be playing house sitters at New Da Nang? Because that's not what my boys are here to do."

Sensing that Hatfield was getting tense, Selfridge moved to head him off. "Everyone's point of view will be considered general." Selfridge waved a hand in a placating manner, and then motioned to the offended general. "But since you want to make your thoughts known, what do you want done with the Marines?" Hatfield sat back in his chair and considered his goals.

"What I want for the Marines is that my forces be allowed to begin ground operations to drive the enemy forces out of our territory." he finally amended. Then he requested for additional forces to be made available to the ground forces.

With his point out of the way, the conversation switched to Major Lang. When his turn came, the quiet engineer remarked, "One engineer battalion isn't going to be enough to ensure the proper expansion of the military infrastructure necessary to facilitate the escalations you both want. So I request that the logistics command be placed on Pandora to expand marine forces barracks and airfields."

Suddenly, Quaritch raised his hand and began to speak. "There's one group that we aren't taking into account. I received a communique from the Pentagon, the Army has been eager to get regular ground troops on this venture. They want two army corps on-planet and in the fight by the end of the year. They also want preparations for an army command."

That was the clincher. How to get what everyone wanted, without snubbing the other service branches. Finally, they agreed to request the remainder of the 1st Marine Division and the Logistics Command for the I Marine Expeditionary Corps and two brigades of Engineers to pave the way for the Army's requested corps. Clewell did not say much, only offering his opinion on how offensive actions should be executed. Foreman August was relieved to hear that his miners would not be conscripted into any more fights and Selfridge would not have any fear of Hell's Gate being overrun.

However for some reason, as Clewell laid down in his bed, he was not set at ease by the recent turn of events. _"We're past the point of no return."_ he thought, as he gazed out at the titanic spectral form of Polyphemus. _"The brigade might have been a security investment. But this is only going to get bigger."_ And when three days later, the response to the conference's resolutions came through, Clewell finally knew what it felt like to be in the old capitol on the Day of Infamy.

The response ran as follows:

 _To: Military Defense Command, Pandora_

 _From: UEG High Command, Earth_

 _OPLAN 335 is now in effect. Prepare for a large number of allied forces to begin landing no later than 15 June. The engineers will arrive first, then the Marines and the Army and Air Force after them. Administrator Selfridge is now created by the Senate and the President of Earth, by the grace of God, Provisional Planetary Governor of the World of Pandora and shall report only to the President himself. Good luck and Godspeed._

* * *

 **Author's note: And that's the third chapter. Sorry it took so long. Favorite and follow and give constructive criticism please. If I'm doing anything wrong, give me a holler and point it out.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Avatar is the property of James Cameron. I do not own anything other than my** **original characters.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

* * *

In the days after the reception of the communique, and the revelations about the doings on Earth, the air of agitation had grown to a feeling of genuine terror. For the sense of helplessness that one feels when one is mired in affairs that one has no real influence over is not a pleasant sensation. The Marine and Army engineers had indeed arrived several days later as stated by the message and had immediately set to work expanding the road networks and other infrastructure. Of chief interest to Clewell and the other base personnel however was the expansion of Hell's Gate, and it's subsequent renaming. Due to it's growth and future accommodation of civilian personnel to serve as a sort of government for the planet, the base had been renamed New Saigon.

The new name was largely to appease the P.R. hacks back on Earth, but also to conform with the new tradition of naming bases and other installations after Vietnam War era bases and cities. And New Saigon was a perfectly suitable name for so large a location. The conurbation was still roughly pentagon-shaped, but massive tracts of land had been cleared away from the surrounding areas. New Saigon's equally new air base, dubbed "New Tan Son Nhut" was possessed of two airstrips, each capable of carrying a Valkyrie shuttle, and a large central terminal, which conducted the entirety of traffic, both outgoing and incoming. And finally, there was the new STG Complex, which was expanded into it's current form to support the Defense Command and all planned troop deployments. The overall size of the "city" was several dozen hectares, and had within it's walls some 25,000 miners, logistics personnel, and soldiers of the New Saigon Guard Regiment were domiciled. The Engineers had finished with the city and had moved on to the New Da Nang base complex and the headquarters for the 2nd Marine Division at a location dubbed "New Chu Lai".

Clewell had expected problems, but the resulting debacles regarding logistics and how to expand the base had given him headaches and he wasn't even a member of the logistics group. The migraines Clewell was certain they suffered would have been the sort that would've put him on medication. But as he looked over the holo-table, and saw the number of thermal signatures, he knew that logistics were the least of his problems. The map showed, fifty miles from the outpost furthest north, a concentration, or a group of concentrations, each about five thousand strong. Of the number of concentrations present, there were three, each clustered around a central camp and what amounted to a command post. And each had large amounts of Dire Horse and Banshee riders. War forces. Even more, their layout showed the growing military organization of the enemy.

 _"I was right."_ Clewell thought to himself. _"This was only going to get bigger. Now we've got what amounts to an old style infantry division camped out right on our border."_ For such there indeed was, though the enemy was spread out, there was a force comparable to an old Viet Cong division. Now the force was beginning to advance to the furthest edge of the perimeter. The force was, as suggested by the images, in the process of joining together for some major operation. And it was rather obvious to the group, what that purpose was. The "division" was approaching the Home-tree Pandorium mine, the farthest from the Marine bases, and the forces approaching were apparently intent upon mayhem. What was necessary now was a plan for defeating the enemy forces and safeguard the investment.

"Gentlemen," said General Richmond, his tone of voice hard and sharp as iron, "the enemy has come to us again. We must meet him on the field and decide this issue through force of arms." Clewell had to resist rolling his eyes somewhat; though he respected the General, the man had a tendency of turning even simple briefings into speeches at any moment that suited him. Minor eccentricities aside, Richmond was still a capable commander, and his prowess showed itself in the Ops Center as he triangulated and calculated outcomes of whatever strategy he might create. Now his abilities were exploited once more. He and his Chief of Operations began shifting around icons and images on the holo-table and after a few moments of rapid movement, a battle plan lay before the assembled officers. "Now the enemy has fixed himself in position near the coast, close to the region of Swotulu. With this in mind, I have created a rough outline for the battle. The working title for this mission is Operation Satellite."

The holo-table flashed and the image of the three regiments had advanced to the Toruk river, one of the tributaries of the Txan'pximaw, one of Pandora's many river systems. General Richmond began to outline his plan for the battle. "The enemy has a clear line of advance to the mining site, there's only one natural obstacle to their advance, the Toruk river. Which is itself crossable via several naturally occurring wooden bridges." He gestured to to the aforementioned river. "And this is where we will trap him. Two battalions of the 9th Marines will take up blocking positions along the south bank of the river to deadlock the enemy." General Hatfield then raised a certain point.

"Only two battalions to stop a brigade? Forgive me if I'm skeptical of this plan's success General. Despite the fact that we are the best of the best, even my boys can't fight an army, no matter what amount or level of technology they're possessed of." said the Marine Corps Brigadier.

"Not to worry General, there's more to this plan than simply two battalions." General Richmond gave a placating smile to the the Marine Corps officer and waved his hand again. Now the three Na'vi regiments had advanced to the river and had two battalions blocking the enemy, but with four highlighted zones to the west. "The jungle in this region is quite thick, and our line of sight will not be able to strike many of the enemy forces. However, their purpose is not to stop the enemy forces. Merely to delay him. What comes next will be the hammer to the river's anvil."

"The remainder of the 9th Regiment will reinforce its' engaged battalions, then the other three regiments of the 3rd Brigade and the New Saigon Guard Regiment will transport themselves from New Da Nang and New Saigon, then they will disembark at Landing Zones Red, Gold, White and Blue. Then, with support from their transport and attack helicopters, they will envelop the enemy from the east. And finally, with promiscuous amounts of air support from the 366th Tactical Fighter Wing, the enemy shall be hounded west and north along the river and towards the sea, fixed in position, and destroyed by superior fire-power."

* * *

That was the plan, as Richmond had put it down for the commanders. There was some minor hemming and hawing over the exact positioning of the Landing Zones, but for the most part, the issue was settled. Save for one question on everyone's mind, which Clewell gave voice to. "When do we move?" Clewell asked of the General.

"At 0500 hours tomorrow. We have reports from the remaining science officers as have not deserted or been locked away in the brigs that the Na'vi cannot see well in the dark, something to do with the naturally occurring bioluminescence in plants and themselves not necessitating the natural development of nocturnal vision. So in theory, if we move in the predawn hours, they will not see us coming, and they will just be rousing themselves from their bivouacs, giving us ample time to fly the 9th in and then dig in on the south bank. That is our position. That is how we shall defeat the enemy." the General said with no small amount of finality.

So the briefing was concluded, and Clewell departed the base to his jeep and garrison. The trip back to New Da Nang in the afternoon dusk was a really terrible thing. The sensation of complete isolation, save for his silent unsmiling driver was not at all pleasurable. And this aforementioned feeling was only exacerbated by the queerly raucous chirruping of hidden Forest Banshees and the kaleidoscopic imagery projected over lakelets and streams by creepily dancing Fan Lizards. Almost unconsciously, Clewell looked around his vehicle repeatedly as for some menace which only he could see.

But before an hour was over, the three story perimeter fences loomed up through the jungle, and the wide kill-zones beyond showed the vast low slung hangers and barracks of the Marine Corps fortress. So dark and jagged were the outlines of those buildings in the late afternoon semi-darkness that they suggested the daemonic appearance of some long dead cyclopean city. Whilst the fighters raced overhead, only a few kilometers above the dense canopy, their engines seemed to project the same sort of shrieks as might have been vocalized by the monstrous Night Gaunts of Lovecraft's "Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath".

The sentries atop the nearest watchtower shouted down to the gate operator and in short order the constructs swung inward, thus allowing the jeep to enter unhindered. Clewell slowly exited the vehicle and marched toward the Ops Center. _"The boys need to hear what's happened. They're going to need to know that we're headed for the first brigade sized battle fought by the Marines since the fall of Pyongyang."_ he thought grimly as he marched toward the central tower which held the main operations room.

So possessed of his own mission was he, that Clewell could scarcely remember traveling to the control room, and before he knew what had happened, stood in front of the main PA announcement system. He felt his spine shiver and his nerves so on edge that he might have fainted. But he had a duty that was necessary to complete, a duty to his men and the rest of the brigade. General Hatfield wouldn't arrive until 10 o'clock, so he would have to do it himself. Before he knew what he was doing, his mouth was moving and words were coming out of his mouth.

"To the officers and men of the 9th Marine Regiment and the 3rd Marine Brigade. This is Colonel Robert Clewell." His voice rang out over the compound and all the men and women heeded it's words as if they were the words of a god. "I have just returned from Headquarters at New Saigon with the information that at 0935 hours this morning, infrared satellites discovered a force of 15,000 native troops fifty miles from the northern outpost. As our brigade and the New Saigon Guard are the only ground combat forces on hand, General Richmond has decided to deploy our forces and the Guard Regiment to defeat this enemy force. Now at 0400 hours, tomorrow, we will move out and begin operations to confront said enemy forces, and destroy them."

"And to the men of the 9th. You will have the most important task of all. You will be the ones to protect the crossings on the Toruk river, where our enemy will focus all of his efforts. This is going to be the first of many battles in a long war. So harden your hearts and prepare to march to war and glorious battle. But not for a corporation, and not for any mere country or alliance. We will be fighting with a greater responsibility than any other before, for we are fighting for the future of the human species and I can't tell you if we will win or not. That is up to you. The soldiers of the United Earth Marine Corps. You are Humanity's finest. I know that we will all do our duty, which is handed down from God himself. That of the defense of our species."

"So sleep now, for tomorrow we will fight for our future. All of us." And with that, he made an about face from the microphone. It was a rather poor speech in his opinion, now that he had time to think about it. He simply rambled off what ever he could think of. But as he looked around the room, and saw the determined expressions on the faces on the orderlies, the thought struck him that maybe he might have actually accomplished something. A slight feeling of pride was stirred in his chest as he beheld the ramrod straight marines that saluted him as he walked down the corridors.

Bob walked down the hallway of the collective building that housed the command staff and the Ops Center and arrived at room 378, his quarters. Entering, he closed the door behind him and looked over the small amount of personal belongings that he had brought with him when he was assigned. There was a picture of himself and a woman and two boys at a park. His wife and sons. There was another of himself at his boot camp graduation at Quantico. Finally, there was a picture of himself and his family in their house in the L.A suburbs. These three pictures, and a few other small paraphernalia were all that he had brought with him from earth. Thinking of that only depressed him. Here he was, on a moon several light years from his family and his home. Wasn't that a lonely feeling?

But duty came first. He needed his strength. A battle would be fought tomorrow and he would be one of the people depended upon to win it. "No pressure. Only the future of humanity is riding on the outcome of this battle." he mockingly said to himself as he reflected on his present situation. Looking at the clock, he saw that it was nearly seven. _"Best make sure I'm rested. Can't be failing the boys due to lack of sleep."_ he thought. With that in mind, he walked over to his bunk and stripped himself of his uniform and allowed himself to collapse onto the bunk, nude but for his undergarments, and floated off into the world of dreams.

* * *

Clewell did not sleep well. His dreams were filled by images of fear and of the coming battle. One scene in particular, was very frightful. In his dream, he was seated in a Super-Huey, among a swarm of other machines flying toward the landing zone in the stultifying darkness of the early morning. Then as the helicopter began to descend into the jungle toward the small clearing, a shocking roar rang out above the flock of vehicles. _"No..."_ Clewell thought. _"We were supposed to surprise them!"_ Then as he looked out of the Super Huey and above, he saw a massive, red, four winged beast. As large as one of the Huey's, it darted down from it's pursuant course like a monster of feverish nightmares and seized the roof his vehicle, it's steel-sharp claws penetrating

It then flung it's prey towards the ground, and as the wounded vehicle spiraled down to the earth, Clewell chanced to look above him. The sky was black with nightmarish fiends, banshees rode by Na'vi, their blue skin disgustingly contrasting with the blood red paint upon it. But that apocalyptic vision was shattered by the crashing of the Huey onto the hard rocky river banks. Pain overwhelmed Clewell's mind, and for several moments he felt blackness creeping in on the corners of his vision. But it cleared as a new pain spread through his body, his stomach, his face... his face. There were pieces of multiplex glass embedded in his face when the visor had shattered, and even as he felt this, his lungs began to burn with the noxious CO2 infused atmosphere.

Suddenly as Clewell saw all this in his dream, he felt as if he were looking from outside himself at his own body. And it was the sight of this horrifically savaged figure, it's armor mangled, the face almost unrecognizable and with a six foot shard of metal in it's torso, that drove him to give vent to the piercing scream that woke him from the nightmare and to forced him to sit up straight in an icy perspiration. Looking around in the darkness, which had acquired the consistency of pitch, he fumbled for the light switch and, finding it, flipped the switch and allowed the crisp yellow light to fill his room. He steadied his breathing and felt over himself, making sure the dream was not real. The thing to do now, he decided, was to dress and then wake the battalion commanders.

Slowly, and after his eyes adjusted, Clewell slid his uniform on and edged out of his room, taking care not to alert the rest of the base. Then he located the bunks of his Battalion Commanders. After the four Majors were roused from their sleep, they and Clewell roused the regiment's bugler and marched out to the base's new flagpole. _"_ _Reveille was always something I never really liked, then again, no one likes waking up early."_ Clewell thought as the bearer attached the flag to the post. Then the dreaded notes began pouring out of the bugle and Clewell could almost see the Sergeants leaping out of their bunks and calling their men to action. Though he would have to explain himself to Hatfield afterward for this. For the General, despite his soldierly occupation, was not a morning person, not least an early morning person.

But such things could wait until afterwards. Within half an hour, the entire brigade was grumbling and fumbling their way to the the mess halls to fill themselves up, with what some feared might be their last meals. Clewell also had to explain himself to General Hatfield for breaking protocol and sounding Reveille without his person present. And he did catch flack for it, the Brigadier being a real stickler for conduct, at least when out of combat. On the battlefield, the man was as much of an improvisor as any Marine. Tangent aside, the men finished their meal, and were soon piling into the choppers. Normally they would have had marches and orchestral pieces like "Ride of the Valkyries" or "The Battle-hymn of the Republic" blaring out their speakers, but this time, surprise and stealth were key.

And so the choppers flew on in relative silence, the only noise heard by the Marines being that of the rhythmic thumping of the rotor-blades. For three quarters of an hour, Clewell and his men said nothing to each other, save what was absolutely necessary. Normally these men would be joking and betting on their projected kill tallies, but here it was different. This world was not Earth, it was foreign to all the soldiers, and had an ecology of unparalleled ferocity. So the normally exuberant and boisterous troopers now wore sober, and thoughtful expressions, and perhaps Clewell thought, as he studied the faces of the Marines behind their visors, almost of genuine sadness.

 _"Maybe it's because they're so far from home. Or maybe they just never thought they'd be fighting giant blue Indians."_ Clewell thought with an obscene zestful irony at their position. Three hundred years ago, the Army were the ones fighting Indians, now the Marines were doing the same thing over a light year away. Just as he thought of this fact, the alert lights came on in the sealed cabin of the Super-Huey. Then the pilot's voice came in over the intercom. "Colonel, the LZ is five clicks out. Making our final approach."

 _"Alright. Game time."_ he thought as the choppers began to descend. Then the double doors on either side of the fuselage, and Clewell hopped out of the cabin and onto the Pandoran riverside. Truly it was not so dark as many nights on earth, but then again, light was always present on Pandora in one form or another. If the intelligence reports were correct, then the Na'vi forces would be just rousing themselves from their bivouacs and starting on the move. They were supposed to be moving towards the river, and would probably arrive in two hours or so. This was not going to be easy, two thousand men against fifteen thousand Na'vi who knew the territory better than any other, it was the Marines that were flying blind.

"Get your asses squared away boyos! They're gonna be here in not but two hours and I want to be able to roll out the red carpet for them! I need foxholes dug and room for the Reavers to set up!" The EMC-200 Reaver was a short range support platform equipped with grenade launchers on either arm and mortars on the back, especially handy in small unit engagements or in jungle and urban combat. In this region it, would be essential, until artillery could be deployed. Normally Drachen suits would be deployed to act as defense for the Reavers, but in such tight conditions and with the jungles behind them, it was decided to leave the flame suits behind. Especially considering that they would be engaging well past the Drachen suits range.

The two hours slid by as if everything else had ceased to matter, aside from the preparations for slaughter. The foxholes were dug and some of the smaller trees were cleared away for the landing zones that would facilitate the easy deployment of reinforcements. Sentry Turrets had been emplaced in front of the line and both battalions had a clear line of sight all the way to the north bank, which was where the Na'vi would be marching to. This was the moment that everyone had been waiting for and the atmosphere was truly extraordinary, heavy with tension and excitement. Clewell was studying the north bank for possible enemy forces, when there was a great whooping and roaring from the forests on the opposite side of the river. Then the arrows began to fly and Banshees started to zoom down from the sky like great sparrows and bluejays with the warriors on their backs.

"Eyes up! The Indians have come out to play!" one of his lieutenants called out, and the firing started up from the marines. Clewell could see what had happened. They had been busy digging their foxholes, and not taking one look to the opposite shore. Not to mention the fact that satellite coverage was rather spotty in this area. But the battle at hand was more pressing. And while arrows could not penetrate Marine armor, their faceplates were vulnerable, hence the foxholes. Besides, some habits died hard, and digging foxholes on these sorts of operations was one of them. The rifles fired controlled clipped bursts, the machine guns setting down a layer of suppression fire, and the Reavers grenade launchers and mortars were constantly spewing lead death upon the opposite bank. But for all their drill and precision, the forest was too dense for the Marines to put much of a dent in the Na'vi's forces.

This went on for thirty minutes or so, during which perhaps ten men were killed and somewhat more than twice that lightly wounded, when the Na'vi began to surge across the natural bridge. It was a calculated rush, with mounted archers at the front and Banshees as cover. _"Sully's taught them well."_ Clewell thought as he aimed his rifle at the center of the native forces. Even near four hundred years after it's inception, every marine was still a rifleman. Perhaps some two dozen fell in the charge, and still they came on. Then a great roar shook the forest and a Leonopteryx dived like a falcon and gripped up one of the Reavers. That was most likely Sully, and Clewell rose his rifle and let off one or two shots in it's direction, but they missed their mark. It wouldn't have made any difference anyhow, that was a wild one.

"This keeps up, it won't matter how good we are! They'll overrun us!" Shouted a sergeant. And he was right. There were still over fourteen thousand enemy warriors on the north bank dug into the woods. More than enough to wipe them out, if they came fast enough. They nearly did, but there was still only one bridge, and the river was wide. Easily thirty meters at it's narrowest. But that advantage was somewhat negated by the fact that the enemy had airborne forces, though each could only carry one Na'vi, or two for the strongest of them.

"Hold out for a bit longer! The rest of the 3rd will be here soon! We'll get through this, we can! The Marines never fold!" Clewell bellowed over the din. Then there was a rattling, rolling, thumping and cheering, such as no things of Pandora could raise up. Then the rest of the 9th Marines came rumbling down in the Super-Hueys and dismounted, three copters at a time. This certainly put the Na'vi forces on edge, and Sully knew that they would need to strike at once. So they did, a whole regiment came on banshees and on horseback, but this, in spite of itself was halted. The bridge was too narrow and there were too many Marines. This dance went on for as long as an hour, and by the time the enemy forces had withdrawn to the north, they had lost nearly five hundred dead and wounded.

Then there came the trumpet call of victory and with it, hundreds of turbojets. The 366th had arrived, right on cue. The screams of rockets and trails of smoke told of the first salvoes and then there came the distinctive leaf tumble fall of napalm canisters. Then, seconds after the first canister fell, the north bank erupted in fire. And in that flame, Clewell could see Na'vi dancing, and screaming. Some were tearing off into the forest, too blinded by fear and pain to try and put the flames out, and the flesh sloughed off their bodies in slabs. Others were more intelligent, and they leapt into the waters of the wide river, heedless of the rushing tides in an attempt to douse the flames. They should have simply slit their throats. Napalm had advanced since the days of Vietnam, and advances in chemistry had enhanced the foul substance to a hitherto unprecedented degree of lethality.

"Never thought I'd say this, but God bless the United Earth Air Force!" Normally, no self respecting Marine _would_ say that, but these were different circumstances. And the battle continued, the combined forces herding the Na'vi along the river bank, towards the sea, and destruction. But though the casualties to the blueskins were enormous, they were robbed of final victory by the very jungle that had trapped their quarry. The Na'vi knew it better than anyone, and used it to slip away into the twilight, for the battle lasted the day. This was the worst thing anyone could have asked for. Because as they knew, their enemy may have been beaten, but he was not broken, and he would live to fight another day. Word would be spread, and the war would shift from open battle to a guerrilla conflict. And as Clewell's regiment returned to New Da Nang, he could only think, _"Well, those reinforcements are sure going to come in handy."_

* * *

 **Authors note: Here's chapter four finally! I may have to go back and edit the battle scene, I find I'm not very good at it.**


End file.
